


i dream all year, but they're not the sweet kinds (and the shivers move down my shoulder blades in double time)

by mlledechateauneuf



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fighter!Lexa, Healing, Ode to another work, Oneshot, Rewrite, Roomates, Slow Burn, artist!Clarke, doctor!clarke, inspired by another work, possibilist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlledechateauneuf/pseuds/mlledechateauneuf
Summary: As you lay completely still in your bed, you wonder what she's haunted by: could it be possible that a girl as young as you has known death like you have? Of course, it is, that's not a question, but what are the odds that you, a pre-med student, and a double major one, would find each other here in Polis University, sharing the same dorm? You close your eyes and sigh, hoping she doesn't see flames in her sleep, hoping she doesn't hold a piece of broken glass in her hand, hoping she doesn't plunge it in her lover's throat. A lone tear escapes your eyes: it's been years since the car crash, but the guilt of ending Finn's life will never leave you, no matter how many times you tell yourself you freed him from his broken body, no matter how many times you repeat in your head his last words to you: Thank you, Princess.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	i dream all year, but they're not the sweet kinds (and the shivers move down my shoulder blades in double time)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i’m a princess cut from marble, smoother than a stone (the scars that mark my body are silver & gold)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3467942) by [possibilist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilist/pseuds/possibilist). 



> This is a rewrite of another fic : "i'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a stone (the scars that mark my body are silver & gold)" by possibilist. Here is the original summary:  
> "or: ten times clarke learns something about lexa, and ten times they keep their promises."
> 
> I absolutely love this fic (which is a canon-divergence) and I thought it would be cool to imagine it in an AU one, so here it is. It is heavily inspired by possibilist's work, so give them the credit!
> 
> English is not my first language and I don't use any kind of proof-reading/beta, so I apologize for any typo or syntax mistakes hidden here and there.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> theadventurist

//

1

Lexa has nightmares.

That's what you're sure about your new roommate, and you mean, it's kind of obvious if her grumbles and gasps and shifting are anything to go by. So, obvious, yes, but painfully so, you guess. As you lay completely still in your bed, you wonder what she's haunted by: could it be possible that a girl as young as you has known death like you have? Of course, it is, that's not a question, but what are the odds that you, a pre-med student, and a double major one, would find each other here in Polis University, sharing the same dorm? You close your eyes and sigh, hoping she doesn't see flames in her sleep, hoping she doesn't hold a piece of broken glass in her hand, hoping she doesn't plunge it in her lover's throat. A lone tear escapes your eyes: it's been years since the car crash, but the guilt of ending Finn's life will never leave you, no matter how many times you tell yourself you freed him from his broken body, no matter how many times you repeat in your head his last words to you: _Thank you, Princess_.

You hear Costia's name, breathy and hollow, and it snaps you back to the present. Lexa shifts in her sleep then mumbles something you don't think is English. You mentioned her once when you were both awake and the following silence you got was answer enough that Lexa didn't want to talk about it. But her eyes gave away the enormity of the pain she carried on her shoulders: the ghosts that hid deep in the forest within her eyes, they were off limits. And maybe it makes you a horrible person, but that makes Lexa even more beautiful to you, it makes you want to touch her, kiss her fears away, so much in fact you ache from want. You think maybe, just maybe, a deep understanding of a part of the other's soul came out from your matching pain. As you try to decipher Lexa's mystery of a person, one thing you know for sure is that you want her: sure, a hungry, primal part of you has been wanting her ever since you first laid eyes on her ('cause like, who are you kidding), but now, alone with your thoughts in the dark of the night, you know you want more than her body, you long for something Lexa guards fiercely within her and you fear she'll never give away again. It makes you wonder if want is the same as grief, if a profound sadness is the same as desire.

But enough with this, she's your roommate for God's sake, not some kind of science-psychological project. So you reluctantly close your eyes again, a bit wary of the dreams to come. You shift and face her, dare to take one last look at her before signing out and then you freeze because she's looking at you:

"Nightmares?" she whispers.

You nod and hers tells you she has them too. Somehow, that silent admission spreads warmth throughout your whole body and it's as if she knew you were reluctant to go to sleep when she says softly: "You can sleep if you want, Clarke. They are not real anymore. I promise".

You instantly understand what she means: _the visions that make up your nightmares, your memories, they're not real anymore. The dead are gone_. Your eyes are burning from a lot of things, so you just nod. Now with her in the back of your mind, you know she'll keep you safe in your dreams.

//

2

Lexa is profoundly gentle.

And sometimes, you're profoundly stupid (like right now).  
You came home drunk, reeking of alcohol and sex, and the door may have slipped from your hand when you slammed it open. You immediately went for the bathroom where you emptied your stomach, literally and metaphorically. The feeling of his hands, his breath, _him_ , it's like he's still everywhere all at once, you thought you needed human contact, thought you craved it and it did fill something inside, but not quite in the way you wanted to be filled. Between two breaths, you make a mental note. Sleeping with someone who is not Lexa precisely to forget Lexa: _not_ working. That thought makes you retch again and you can't quite catch your breath, and you start to panic.

That is until you feel a soft hand on your back, your hair being held out of the way and a soothing voice behind your back.

"It's okay, Clarke. Let it out."

If only you could have _her_ out of your system.

(Even though having her inside you would be _much_ more preferable.)

You just shake your head, incredibly embarrassed, you don't want her to see you that way, you can't believe it's happening. 

She easily fights off your weak attempts at pushing her away, and when you think you're done, she gets you water and Listerine, helps you out of your clothes and leads you to your bed. But you're full of surprises (especially when intoxicated), so you throw yourself into hers. She stares for a moment at a lost, then does that almost-smile she does and goes to get you water and two Advils. You spread your limbs onto her bed, not giving a single fuck and look at her with mischievous eyes. You'll probably be mortified at your behavior the next day, but right now, you don't care. Her bed smells so good, it smells like her and it takes everything to not plant your face into her pillow and inhale her scent. On second thought, you do it. They say tomorrow is another day. Don't they?

She's sitting back straight on your bed, her smile grows on her face and she looks at you with a tenderness you've never felt before. It makes your whole body shiver and you look away, cheeks flushed. Your drunken mind can only distort the care in her eyes and now, it hurts, everything hurts because you think back to the people you loved and lost. You think about Finn, about your dad, about the numberless cracks inside of you and you realize right there and then that you can't have anything but survival yet, no matter how badly you want to be ready to be with her. She trusts you and it means the world to you, and if anything should happen because you were too eager, you don't think either of you could stand to lose someone else.

You look her way and get lost into the depths of her eyes. She's so fucking beautiful. You see reverence in her eyes, even if you basically woke her up at 3:4-something am and she still held you hair and took care of you with gentle words and even softer hands. Her actions spoke louder than her voice and now she's unguarded, completely open in front of you.

 _Not yet_ , you tell yourself. But soon, you hope.

//

3

Lexa is willing to die.

"You don't stand a chance against _that_!" You gesture wildly because you can't bring yourself to say the word.

 _Monster_.

And behind all that pissed façade you're putting up, you're fucking scared. Lexa is about to fight some six foot muscle mountain of a man in a _dual_. You mean, _who does that_? You thought you liked theatrics, but, like, for the love of God!

"You've never seen me fight", she snarls as if you had just doubted her - which, you technically did.

(She may be competing in a martial art tournament, but you thought there were some kind of gender rules, and even though the idea of his ass being handed by a badass woman gets you excited to no end, you still can't help but worry over Lexa. Yes, she's all lithe and athletic and raw power and grace and muscles and _yes_ , you think about that taut body all over yours, but _the point_ is that you're scared shitless as if you would be the one fighting that man, because it seems her style of fighting doesn't care for gender rules during official fights. So again, _who does that_?)

"He's... he's..." you argue helplessly. "He's gonna _kill_ you, Lexa!"

You can't help but think about those you've lost and you wonder if they will _ever_ leave you in peace, if they'll ever stop being a reminder of pain and grief. After all, shouldn't love be paired with peace? How did it become that bitter taste in your mouth, when did it morph into fear at night, why do you loved ones switch from loving to haunting you once they cross over into the afterlife?

_The dead are gone, Clarke. The living are hungry._

You remember Lexa's words so clearly she might have just whispered them to you and only now do you begin to really understand them. While you're trying to survive your grief, there she is, in front of you, very real, very much _alive_ and she's young and lovely. But in the brink of the fight, her honor about to be tested as she would put it, she stands tall and strong, and she's so goddamn beautiful, you realize you're hungry for a life with her. Even though, when you're young and you think you'll never run out of time, every moment is precious and you don't want to spend them looking back into your past's eyes, no matter how much you ache for the memories.

Lexa is the vessel for every hope to come and you'll be damned if you don't dive in head first. Lately, your mood changes have been giving you whiplashes and you blame it all on her (putting all your faith in her doesn't mean you don't get to be dramatic anymore). You lace your fingers through hers and rub your thumb over the little web between her thumb and forefinger: "I believe in you."

//

4

Lexa is _terrifying_.

They were standing alongside each other while the referee was saying a bunch of nonsense before the fight. "Today, you fought with honor, but only one can remain standing..." and more crap, but you had to admit you may have enjoyed a bit too much the idea of gladiator Lexa. Goddamn it! you promised to boycott this whole fighting thing, but you could only stand there looking at Lexa in her karate gi holding her staff as if it had always been a part of her body.

Then, they started fighting and this is where you are now: terrified as hell by this spartan of a girl. She was right: you've never seen her fight and what you're looking at right now is a dance, graceful, elegant, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was rehearsed. Roan's big and powerful, but he lacks Lexa's speed and precision. She moves around him and get in small hits that you don't doubt will leave bruises in their wake. Roan seems to get angrier by the minute and his attacks become quicker but sloppier. Lexa meets every hit until she doesn't and he brings her to the floor. You gasp and you can't breathe when you see him bring the end of his weapon toward her throat barely hearing the referee's cries, and suddenly, Lexa's not there anymore. She rolled away at light speed, she's back on her feet and he barely has time to look up to see her foot collide with his chest. 

You think in another life, she fought precisely the same - elegant, exact - and you're terrified she died like this: exquisite and small in the heart of a waging war, in what was undoubtedly a hero's death.

//

5

Lexa won.

The referee called off the fight once her staff was at Roan's throat and the judges all voted in her favor. She stands tall and quiet, without any pretense, she was not here to lose, but she's as humble as one can get even in the wake of her victory. You really thought Roan was going to hit her if she hadn't rolled out of the way and it scared you, seeing her on her back at the man's mercy. It brought back old ghosts of yours and the last thing you want is for Lexa to join them, but she's alive, she's alive, _she's alive_ , you can't stop thinking, relief flooding you: you are young and you want to be able to want her.

Her coach and the medics see her off the ring and you follow them. Once you enter the locker room, she sends them away after they're done assessing her. Your inner doctor can't help but check her up again yourself.

"Clarke," she says once you seem satisfied she's not in immediate danger, and you know from her expression nothing good will come out next "I am glad to see you still in this life." You were right: she's mocking you.

You roll your eyes.

"Or should I say, I told you so."

You glare at her lazy smirk. Such a smug ass. But she's alive and she's Lexa and she's _here_ , so you decide to let this banter go for once.

"You fought beautifully today. I never saw something like that."

Her expression sobers immediately, a light blush creeping on her cheeks. "I'm glad you came." 

"Me too." You almost didn't, somehow hoping she would resign from the fight, but you did. You rooted for her and you know you always will. "It's like you were dancing, you were so elegant and graceful. Like an angel of death."

She looks at you with her big, earnest, haunted eyes and you see tears welling up in them.

"Hey," you say softly, cupping her cheek. "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

A small sob espaces her throat and she shakes her head. You take off your hand from her face and patiently wait.

"I am mourning my dead for the last time."

Well, that was unexpected.

"I have filled the last promise I made to Costia. She was there for my very first fight and... I never got to finish the tournament because of... and I never competed after..."

You take her hand.

She lets you.

"I can finally let her go, knowing I have fulfilled my duty to her."

"I never knew her but, I don't think she would ever have held it against you."

She smiles fondly at that.

"No she would not have. Costia was a lover, not a fighter. But I will never regret fighting for her."

"You did honor to her, Lexa. Maybe now, it's time you honor yourself."

Her eyes meets yours, unshed tears welling up in both of you. It's as if an impossible weight is finally, _finally_ lifted off your shoulders and better days are only now given permission to start.

And you know you will be in them together.

//

6

Lexa is surprisingly embarrassed.

It happens twice and you guess you understand the first one even though you'll never let her live it out.

The first time, you came back from your late class (epidemiology at that, ugh) and she was in the shower, you were minding your own business when suddenly, you heard it: "Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine, I'm leavin' my life in your hands!"

What?

"People say I'm crazy and that I am blind, risking it all in a glanceee."

Oh, now, that is just _too_ good to be true. And by that, yes, you mean Lexa singing _the fucking Backstreet Boys_ in the shower. 

She truly looked like a deer caught in headlights when she saw you and her following horrified expression was worthy of a damn Oscar. She stood there, frozen on the spot like a scared cat (you briefly think you like comparing her to animals because she's beautiful like them), for a ridiculous amount of time before carefully saying: "Clarke, I did not hear you come in."

It literally takes you everything in yourself not to grin and say something like "no, you didn't". You want to see where she'll take this.

"How long have you been here?"

"Oh, I only _just_ came back."

She looks so relieved and well, you're a little shit (sue you) and won't pass an opportunity like this.

"But hum," you pick up a hairbrush and jump on her bed. "I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE, WHERE YOU'RE FROM, DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DID!"

"Oh my God, Clarke!" She looks so betrayed, her face now so red and you're loving it. You hold out your hand and pull her up on her bed. It takes you a lot of jostling and "no, Clarke!" and "yes, Lexa!" and "never!" and "I swear to God you will!" before she finally lets loose and you're both jumping on the bed, yelling at the top of your lungs.

_Who you are_  
_Where you're from_  
_Don't care what you did_  
_As long as you love me_

Even the banging on the wall and the orders to shut up from your neighbors can't break the bubble you're both in when you come closer to her, the hairbrush held in the middle.

_I've tried to hide it so that no one knows_  
_But I guess it shows_  
_When you look into my eyes_  
_What you did and where you're comin' from_  
_I don't care_

Time seems to stop and then, without your knowledge, your hand finds itself on her cheek, your eyes set on hers, Lexa goes silent and you whisper: "As long as you love me, baby".

Suddenly, you think you want to find her embarrassed a lot more often.

The second time it happens, you find her pacing in your dorm, her hands clasped in her back.

"Is everything okay?" you ask getting nervous by the minute.

Her pacing stops, but she still looks nervous as hell and you don't like it because Lexa doesn't do nervous. She takes a deep breath and gestures to your bed. Your chest aches when you see a few canvases and some paints set up, a few brushes and a palate. 

"What..."

"I saw the doodles in your notebooks, the painting on your lock screen and you have been bugging me about this new art gallery for a while." You blush, it is true you've been babbling about it nonstop. "I know you do not just appreciate art. You are a an artist," she says quietly, and this might be your mind playing games, but you're almost sure there is something reverent in her voice.

"Lexa..." you throat constricts, the words won't come out and tears start welling up in your eyes. "Why?" you croak.

"Take it as a thank you for coming to my fight. It meant... a great deal that I am not sure I can put into words."

Her eyes are shining too and you think this girl deserves the world. You know she does.

"So... are these alright?"

You smile because she's so formal and so genuine and almost painfully worried she's done something wrong. This stoic girl who commands attention wherever she goes, who inspires both fear and admiration, who no one even dares to talk to, is also the girl who stands before you, unsure, nervous and shy. No one else in the entire world knows this Lexa. _Your_ Lexa.

"These are perfect," you say, and her body slumps in relief "thank you".

Only your dad has ever encouraged you in your art before and your chest aches once again under the emotion. You think about how your dad would have loved Lexa and instead of being deeply painful, the idea brings you a freeing sense of relief: you feel it in your heart that you have your dad's approval. You see him smile from above, hear him say something along the lines of "you've got a good one there, kiddo, I might even like her more than my own daughter", and before you know it, silent tears of joy are running down your cheeks. You wipe them away with a smile and look at Lexa, who's reading in her bed, completely oblivious to your inner elation. You know this is moving on when you can reconcile the dead and the living, when your ghosts cheer you up from above and you can feel their love again. Lost in the sight of the girl in front of you, you know you won't have to wait long anymore.

//

7

Lexa smells lovely.

It's not entirely unexpected, now that you think about it, because you've been close to her so, so many times - and also because, well, you _live_ with her, you _share_ the same room, so it shouldn't have come up as much a surprise as it did.

It's late at night and you couldn't sleep, so you went to your favorite place on campus: a picnic table at the top of a hill. You're still star gazing on it when Lexa silently joins you and when a little breeze catches and blows her hair slightly toward you, you sigh a little, because she smells like flowers and soap, so soft and feminine.

Which she _is_ , which no one but you knows.

You look at her and see her for what she's done for you: she has opened herself up like the flowers she unexpectedly smells of, trusting you with her gaze and her body. She cares and she trusts and she waits and she gives.

It's not hard to kiss her and it's everything you thought it would be and more, cheesiness be damned. Her lips are so, so soft and inviting - after the initial surprise - and you think this is it. This is what you want, _she_ is who you want, who you've been aching for and now that you're ready, you don't want ever want to stop.

But...

"Is this okay?" you whisper.

She looks at you with shining eyes, as if you're a living dream and you are sure she's the youngest you've ever seen her.

"I am not used to feeling scared," she whispers.

If only she knew how _fucking_ scared you've been. You smile and rub her along cheek, trying to cheer her up: "Commander Lexa, scared?" You think referring to her fighting title would do it, but she still looks so serious.

She sighs and closes her eyes. "I do not want to lose you, Clarke."

You understand that, so fucking much it aches. "Lexa..."

"I cannot - I cannot lose someone else."

You know she means Costia so you do the only thing you can. You lean into her to kiss her again, gently and she doesn't pull away. "I'm right here, Lexa." you say and you know it to be the absolute truth.

She nods against your mouth and brings her hand to the back of your head and presses tighter. You feel tears running down both of your cheeks and you circle her waist to keep her tight against your body, never letting go.

"I'm right here."

//

8

Lexa sometimes makes you really, really angry.

You've come to learn that her little fighting tournament turned out to be a lot more than that.

And by a lot than that, you mean gang war.

All under the cover up of an "official art martial tournament", what a load of crap. Now you understand why there was no gender rules, but whatever, this is all so un-freakin'-believable, what kind of sick movie do they think they're in?

Lexa, in all her glory, is a fucking gang leader - which, you guess, explains her cold but royal demeanor and the authority she naturally exudes - and you just don't know what to do with that. Her title has supposedly been questioned ever since she lost Costia (which makes your blood boil because she _is_ allowed to fucking grieve her dead lover, for crying out loud) simply because she wouldn't participate in the fights.

What the fucking fuck? What kind of savages are they? And _how_ Lexa got to keep that from you for so long is just way beyond you. 

But this is how Lexa's been raised and you get why she can sometimes be so _dramatic_ and sacrificial. _We are what we are_ she once said with a melancholy that suggested she might wish she was something else, maybe it's because her tradition isn't the gentlest thing in some aspects.

But no matter how she's been raised, you know Lexa is something else, you _know_ she wants to change some of the ways they're set in: you know this is why she fought and won the tournament, she wants to change the rules they abide by, she wants a better future, and because you want to help her, because you want to be a part of this future with her, you stand by her when she faces yet another trial.

Or at least, you wanted to.

Because Lexa is _so_ dramatic (you'll never stop saying it) and too chivalrous for her own good, she snuck behind your back and went through her trial when you were back home, and now here she is, blood dripping from her hands in the middle of your bathroom. It pissed you off so much you thought that she deserved going through it alone, but you know you don't really believe it. "It does not concern you, Clarke" is her reason and you want to scream at her because whatever concerns her concerns you as well, even the darkest parts of her. So you take her hand and start working on it, washing it softly before wrapping a gauze around it.

"I don't know about you, Lexa, but when I chose you, I chose _all_ of you." Lifting your head, you pin your eyes into hers. "You think you're protecting me from yourself, but in truth, you're just keeping me out and that's pushing me away."

She doesn't move, doesn't say a thing, you don't even think she breathes while she weights your words.

"Do you not think I'm strong enough?"

That gets her to move and she cups your cheek in a split second, her gaze the most intense you've ever seen it: "Clarke, I think you are the strongest of us all."

Warmth invades your whole body at the reverence in her tone.

"Do you know trust me?"

"Beyond my very soul."

You're both not sure what that really means, but you can agree it means a fucking lot. 

"Then trust me when I say that nothing that you are, Lexa Woods, will ever make me go away."

Never breaking eye contact, she goes down on her knees and even if her posture is nothing but strong and confident, you know she's never bowed to anyone before.

"I swear fealty to you Clarke Griffin. the fallen star of my life. Every day, you make me want to be better, you make me want to build a brighter tomorrow." She takes your hands in hers and you suddenly feel like you could be standing at an altar, all dressed in white. "I vow to treat your needs as my own, to always stand by your side and to let you in in all parts of myself."

In that moment, the only thing you want to do is to reach for her hand to help her up, which is exactly what you do. You want her at your side just as much as she wants you at hers - you are equals and it really is beautiful what you are to each other. You seal her promise with a kiss and you hope she can taste the _I do_ from your lips.

//

9

Lexa has a delightful laugh.

She brings you to a 50's diner on an evening two days later and it feels surreal sitting with her in the middle of this neon-light-red-leather-booth environment, eating this huge hamburger and sharing a pink strawberry milkshake. You join her on her side of the booth when only the milkshake is left and suddenly, the jukebox is screaming "Greased Lightning" and her smile is wonderful and blinding. 

"You make me feel young," she says. You smile, bend over and kiss her shoulder over her loose shirt. "I can't remember the last time I felt this carefree."

"I understand." And you do, the weight of grief has been sitting so fucking heavy on your shoulders, you thought it smothered the life out of you. Still, despite the horrible things that happened to both of you, you survived through your loss and now here you are, butterflies coming to life again in your stomach, flowers blooming outside and crickets singing late into the spring night - you're struck with the wonders of the world, with the wonders of being _alive_.

"After losing my dad and Finn, I tried to imagine a world where they were different, where my dad would have left before I was born and where I'd never met Finn, because I figured - if I could hate them enough, maybe it would stop hurting."

She echoes your words from earlier. "I understand."

"I never imagined you, though."

She turns to you with a bright smile and she's so beautiful it takes your breath away. "And what am I, may I ask?"

You tilt your head and pretend to seriously consider it. "When you're not being a dramatic shit," you say, and she rolls her eyes, "a blessing."

She bites her lip and then leans forward to kiss you, and you shut your eyes tight and try to remember this moment.

_We got debutantes and socialites_  
_And mommas from the PTA_  
_We got bachelorettes dressed up in white_  
_And little black dress divorces_

She suddenly breaks the kiss and tugs you onto the dance floor. She takes both of your hands in hers and starts twisting and you can only stand there, mouth open, and stare unbelieving: Lexa is showing off her 60's dance moves and shouting along this crazy country song. The sight is too much and the joy is bursting from your heart as you start to laugh whole-heartedly, and soon, the prettiest laugh comes out of her mouth along with yours.

It makes you want to cry, almost, because you have no idea how long it's been since she last laughed. She even seems a little surprised at her own level of excitement, but you both brush it aside and dance together, laughing into each other's mouths.

You're both young and in love, and it's hard to believe it's _real_.

The song eventually ends and you kiss the top of her hand: "We've gotta do that again sometime," you say.

She nods earnestly. "Of course we will."

//

10

Lexa is beautiful.

You'd known it since the minute you saw her, but not like this, not with you guiding her fingers down your body and not with all of her skin barred and not with her heady breath on your neck.

She is _beautiful_ , and she kisses your pulse point and then your lips, then looks at your eyes.

"Clarke," she says, "is this okay?"

You smile a little and say, "Yes," and she kisses you hard and her fingers slip inside of you.

She swallows your moan eagerly and you grip her tighter while your hips jerk involuntarily. She goes back sucking on your neck and you hold onto her back for dear life, your nails leaving a red path in their wake when her fingers speed up the pace. She starts thrusting her hips with her hand and she's so deep you cry out for her. You spread your legs wider and then her fingers are curling inside you, her thumb pressing against your clit, and you get a glimpse of your future loving each other like this. When she says "Come for me," you take it as now and as in "join me in the future", and you do, you do.


End file.
